Want To Tell You
by Dreaming-Of-A-Nightmare
Summary: a mini rewrite of a scene from ep.17, 'House of the Waiting Family' from the first anime. .:. Somebody eavesdrops on a very confessional conversation between the two Elric brothers. .:. one-sided Elricest drabble/oneshot.


**A/N: This is a quickie; it's a little drabble based off of a highly memorable scene from episode seventeen, 'House of the Waiting Family,' in the first anime. Contains Elricest, of course. ;P**

**Oh, and this is written in a… very different POV, lulz. I couldn't resist, since the person was there when the original scene happened, even if this person interrupted it. XD**

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I am well aware of how disrespectful eavesdropping can be, but what can I say? A curious, knowledge-seeking mind is a trait that has been passed down through the Armstrong family for generations! Who am I to deny its silent plea to listen in on conversations?

Besides, I am doing it in good taste; I was assigned as the Elric brothers' bodyguard, their escort, for the time being. And how else can I do my job properly without checking up on them every so often?

That is what I initially came to the guest bedroom of the Rockbell home to do, but as I approach the door, my fingers on the handle, I hear the two boys speaking, and I choose to hang back so not to disturb them.

I'll wait until the moment is right, then I'll burst in. But for now, I linger behind the door, beautiful muscles tense, and my ear outstretched.

"So listen, Al." Edward begins, his voice low and almost cautious. I tilt my head slightly, wondering what he has to say. He continues, "There's this… _thing,_ see? Something I've been meaning to tell you for a long while now. But I've been kind of… scared, I guess, of what your reaction will be."

I can't see Edward's face none too well, but Alphonse leans forward a bit. I imagine that, had he had any, his eyebrows would be meeting much as mine are now. "What is it?" Alphonse asks.

Edward visibly tenses, his single fist – the automail arm gone because of his recent brush with Scar – balling up into a tight grip where it rests on his leather-clad thigh. He isn't looking at his brother; his head is looking downward, seemingly at nothing in particular.

He licks his lips, then inquires softly, "…Do you promise to let me finish before you say anything?"

Alphonse's tone is clearly confused. "Uh… sure, Brother. Of course. Now, what is it? Tell me."

Edward hesitates, his body oddly stiff and not as fidgety as I would think he would normally be. He sits up straighter, but his eyes still do not connect with his brother's face – or, rather, helmet.

"Al…" he begins, and I find myself leaning forward to catch the upcoming words because they are spoken so quietly, so unsurely: "I… love you, brother-mine. I _really_ love you. But… but I'm the person who dragged you into human transmutation; and because of me, you don't even have a human body! I'm at fault, Al. I took so much away from you, including my own innocent feelings." He takes in a deep, shaky breath. I myself am left speechless. But Edward isn't done. With his eyes still downcast and his fist quaking, he poses brokenly, "So… I need to know: Do you hate me?" His eyes squeeze shut. "I ruined everything, and I keep getting us into trouble. I'm incestuous and disgusting and… and I hate myself, so I wonder if… you hate me, too."

I lean back, away from the door. I can't bear to hear any more; such pain, such guilt and grief, and such complication; I don't condemn nor condone the older Elric's feelings, but I do feel awful for him to have to be burdened by them.

I almost turn away and leave. I almost remove my hand from the handle. But something stops me: the Armstrong stubbornness, perhaps, or even the Armstrong protectiveness, or perhaps it's simply my own compassion for the boys, but I stay where I am. I remain a still statue, and wait. I await the younger Elric's response, and know that no matter the outcome, I'm going to lighten the mood by entering afterward.

Slowly, Alphonse's voice slithers out of his metal shell. Wearily, and with a higher pitch than usual, Alphonse inquires, "You… truly feel that way, Brother?"

Sadly, seemingly numbly, Edward nods his head. "Yeah…" he murmurs, "Every word."

Suddenly, Alphonse's tone grows serious and his leather-gloved hand is set firmly on the bedspread. "I could never hate you, Brother. You're still too dumb to realize that it wasn't your fault that I'm like this; how were we to know what was going to happen to us? And as for… that other thing… it doesn't change how I feel about you. I'm not disgusted; if anything, I'm a little surprised, and still trying to let that sink in, but I'm… oddly proud of you, Brother. It takes a lot to admit something like that, and I will always respect and love you."

Edward finally looks up, but I can only see his profile, so I don't have the full effect of his expression, but I imagine it to be that of pure shock and relief, and perhaps with a bit of awe as well. He smiles waywardly and moves from his bed to give Alphonse a brief, one-armed hug. His younger sibling returns it wholeheartedly, and I can almost see a smile in the depths of those empty armor eyes.

I feel glittery. I smile my own silent approval of them working out such a personal dilemma, my eyes sparkling. Such inspiring brotherly love!

"Boys~!" I cheer gruffly, my voice hoarse with touched tears. They nearly leap out of their skins as I come bursting into the room, but I can't help myself. I don't even bother with my original reason for visiting, but it hardly matters now. I pick up the two of them – they are as light as birds – and I embrace them, muttering nonsense, but giving them no indication that I have been eavesdropping.

After all, cunning evasiveness is another trait that has been passed down throughout the generations of Armstrongs.


End file.
